Once you've been loved once and have loved once, you cannot forget it.
"My lord is calling for you," a tiny flower yōkai squeaks out. "Come, come, come!" Its petals flutter alarmingly as its small hand clutches at Natsume's ankle.
Madara grumbles in the refuge of Takashi's arms. His stubby tail vibrates. Takashi is far too lenient with these lesser yōkai. Takashi even lets them lead him.
The earth is soft from earlier rainfall. There is a lingering scent to air emanating from the soil. Takashi's lightly slippered feet squelch in the dirt. The full moon illuminates the winding forest trails. Yet there are shadows lurking in the hollows of trees and in the twining lattice of tree branches and leaves. Creatures lurk in the dark.
"My lord is calling for you," the flower yōkai repeats. "Come, come, come!" Madara hisses. That little yōkai has been repeating itself for minutes on end ever since it invaded Takashi's room. The repetition is what happens when you get a lesser yōkai to do a greater yōkai's will. They become single-minded until the order resolves itself.
Slowly, at the pace of the tiny yōkai, they walk into a secluded clearing. The lattice of tree branches clears up to reveal clear skies and a full moon outshining the stars in the sky. In the moonlight, a living throne wraps around a tall form. Tree roots and flower petals entwine in a thick framework that supports this tall yōkai.
They walk closer. Less than a meter away, the flower yōkai scuttles away with a hasty "My lord" in parting. The seated lord does not acknowledge the words. He only stares unblinkingly at Takashi and Madara. He does not need to blink, for he has no eyes to blink with. There are only gaping eye sockets with trails of blood highlighting the sharp planes of his face. The blood never ceases its grotesque and obscene flow.
"Natsume Reiko," the lord croons. He sniffs delicately and nods as if to affirm some notion lingering in his mind. Takashi isn't sure he wants to know what that sniff revealed to get his identity so wrong. He already knows he looks similar to Reiko but his scent…
"Idiot," Madara mutters, as if he is any better at identifying humans.
"No, she was my grandmother," Takashi gently explains. "I'm her grandson Takashi. Who are you?" Who are you to be so in need of Natsume Reiko?
"Grandson?" the lord repeats. "How disappointing. To think…time…has passed so quick. Your kind breeds so quick." He pauses for a moment, so palpably weary that Takashi's heart clenches. "You may call me Samidare." He allows for a benevolent nod of his regal head. A waterfall of grey hair sweeps with the distinctive sound of hair on silk.
The fur on Madara bristles upon recognition. Only the powerful are named for nature, or rather natural events are named after powerful yōkai. He is the May Rain, the purest manifestation of the land's rainy season. To think that Reiko, that fool girl, would acquaint herself with such a power…
"Do you need your name back?" Takashi offers, clueless.
Madara swipes at Takashi's arms. "Idiot!" he says. "Even the likes of Reiko would have never stood a chance in defeating him." Reiko was powerful but not even she could win against nature. He can only hope that the yōkai is not offended by Takashi's thoughtless words.
The lord's reaction is unexpected. He laughs. Good humor can be a rare characteristic in the powerful.
"Little human," Samidare rumbles with a torrential force, "even your grandmother was only a droplet to me. You think rain is so easily bested by paper and ink? I was the rain long before your kind woke up." Gods need worship to survive but nature needs nothing to exist.
"The boy apologizes for his stupidity. You know how human pets can be," Madara explains. He waves a casual paw in the air and settles himself further into Takashi's arms.
"That is true," Samidare allows. "It has been so long since I've spoken to a human. I barely spoke to that grandmother of his."
Takashi knows the virtue of silence. He lets Madara continue to speak for them.
"So, what do you need the boy for…my lord?" Even Madara cringes at the servile address. Takashi stifles a snort.
"I am looking for Matoba Seiji. It has been five hundred years too long."
"The exorcist?"
"Yes, I have lent him my eyes. I grow tired of our game. My servants have failed in securing my eyes. He will return them and offer me just compensation." Could it be that this yōkai was the source of the Matoba clan's bargain gone wrong?
"Hmph. I can definitely say that exorcist trash Matoba Seiji does not have your eyes. He's only a human…of…how old, brat?"
"He's thirty," Takashi sighs. "You should know, sensei. You ate all of his cake and drank all of the alcohol at his party." He accompanies his words with a situation-inappropriate look of disdain.
"I am not mistaken," Samidare says. "I met him five hundred years ago and I will meet him again."
Takashi frowns. He cannot allow the yōkai to labor under this misconception, despite the risk in unravelling it. "I…I don't mean to offend you but isn't it possible that the Matoba Seiji you met five hundred years ago was just the ancestor of Seiji today? In the same way that you thought I was Natsume Reiko," Takashi ventures.
"No," Samidare says firmly. "Think me so old that I know not the passage of time?" A thunderous scowl crosses his face. "I have felt his soul five hundred years ago and I feel it again. It is mine . We have made a bargain and I will see it fulfilled. Tell me where he is."
Takashi winces. Now, he is certain that this is the yōkai constantly after the Matoba clan head's eye. However, the terms of the bargain are different from what Seiji had previously told him.
"My lord," Takashi hedges, "what exactly were the terms of your bargain?"
"I would grant him my eyes and in a year's time, he would offer his right eye to me. The terms were very generous. Now, that he has reneged upon our bargain, I would have him body and soul."
"Trust me," Madara pipes up, "you don't want that Matoba as your human pet."
"Do not think to order me around, little cat," Samidare reprimands. His harsh voice harkens back to torrential rainfall. A primal fear electrifies nerves and raises hair and fur. The smell of petrichor intensifies.
It is not a kind assumption, but Takashi banks on Samidare's unfamiliarity with human technology. Seiji's cunning has rubbed off on him, he thinks ruefully. "Of course, my lord," he placates. "I'll send him a letter. He'll come here. It will take a few days." He neatly avoids informing the yōkai of Seiji's whereabouts. He can only hope his words will placate the yōkai enough to avoid further questioning. Though a question that lingers is why would the yōkai think Natsume Reiko would have more than a passing acquaintance with the Matoba? Was it the mere conflation of a spiritually powerful human with another?
"I will give you three days," Samidare intones, "or else I will hunt him down myself instead of delegating to my servants, as I had time and time again. You do not wish to see me fully awake. I am the rain and this land is mine. I would see it drown before letting that coward go again. He shall not betray me twice." Were he scowling, it would be expected and fearsome. But he smiles —pleasantly, as if his claims are mere trifles.
Takashi takes precious time fully absorbing the yōkai's words. Samidare had been sending servants to hunt down the Matoba clan's heirs for all this time? Seiji had to seal his eye away from servants ? That these servants had enough power to cow the Matoba clan through the years is concerning.
"I can smell Matoba Seiji on you. How close you must be. Now, begone." Upon his last word, a whirlpool coalesces out of the air and wraps around Takashi and Madara in a watery embrace.
Neatly, Takashi and Madara are deposited in their room at the Fujiwara home. For all that he is twenty-four, Takashi remains close to home. After college graduation, he had moved back home and had begun to teach at the local elementary school. On weekends, he would visit Seiji at his home. Though it seems like he would be making an early visit to Seiji or rather, Seiji would be visiting him, if things don't pan out.
After coughing out water, Takashi and Madara splay out on the floor. Their limbs are heavy, magnetized to the floor.
"Idiots," Madara mutters. It is unclear to whom the statement is directed and more of a general disdain for the situation.
"I should call Seiji," Takashi muses aloud. With a heave and a groan, he levers himself up. He seats himself at his desk and flips open his phone. He deftly selects Seiji's contact and calls him.
"Takashi," Seiji purrs, "calling me so late at night, hmm?"
"There's a yōkai looking for you," Takashi says, "and your eye."
"Oh," Seiji says in disappointment. "I'm quite aware of that."
"No, I mean that a yōkai named Samidare just summoned me to the forest and asked me where you were. He said he wants you 'body and soul,'" Takashi quotes. "Not just your eye."
"Well then," Seiji says, "I hope you didn't tell him where."
"Of course not," Takashi scoffs, as if he had it in his heart to betray Seiji. "I told him I'd send a letter. He expects you to come here in three days."
"And I suppose you'd rather I didn't come," Seiji says.
"Yes," Takashi declares. The lines of his brow furrow in his vehement declaration.
"Well, thank you for the warning, Takashi," Seiji says coolly, "but I'm quite sure I can handle it." Without your help , goes unsaid. But Takashi hears it as clearly as a bell—resonant and unambiguous.
It infuriates Takashi. There is always something that burns like fire in the pit of his chest when he cannot help a person in need. It compels him to help—to help beyond bounds. Why let another suffer when he could alleviate it? (It was always what he had hoped other people would do for him before. Let him be the hero of his own story.)
Abruptly, Takashi says, "Alright then. Good night, Seiji." He ends the call without waiting for a response.
Madara peers up at him. "Never would have thought you'd be one to give up," the cat mutters. He licks his paws, beginning to self-groom. Takashi's sudden capitulation does not bode well.
"Oh, no," Takashi says smoothly, "I'm not giving up. I've learned by now when to retreat." He smiles kindly, and yet never has Madara ever been intimidated by kindness until now. The things a person will do for love… Madara shudders to think. Takashi will do anything to protect his love. His greatest strength and weakness is his heart.
The thud of bone against wood resounds in an empty house.
"Sensei, be careful!"
"It's alright. He can only lose so many brain cells…"
"Sensei!"
"Calm down, twig boy. Your little boyfriend is fine."
"You know, it's not an insult to call him my 'little boyfriend' when he is actually my boyfriend."
"Fine then—the addition to your harem."
"Sensei! What have you been reading?...And I don't have a harem!"
"Hmm, then I wonder why twig boy no.2 offered you his home?"
"Tanuma's my friend!"
"Stop yelling, you idiot! You'll wake up the trash! You're just like your grandmother! Rude!"
The yelling quiets to indecipherable muttering on both parties' parts.
"Takashi," Seiji says pleasantly, "why am I tied to a bed?" His hands tug at his bonds, with barely any give to the rough hewn rope. He can't believe Takashi cheaped out on the bondage gear. How insulting.
"He has designs on your virtue," Madara mutters contemptuously. His warm breath wafts over Seiji's bound form. Takashi promptly whacks Madara with a heavy hand. His greater forms transitions to his lesser form in a pop of displaced air.
"I am not sorry," Takashi says preemptively, despite the wringing of his hands. His amber eyes are wide and sticky with emotion. The fan of his lashes only serve to highlight his facade of innocence. "It's for your own good," he continues. "I know you were going to confront that yōkai."
"And why shouldn't I?" Seiji questions. He arches a brow in a cross between contempt and confusion.
It does little to sway Takashi from his path and only ignites a churning in his stomach. His tongue darts out to wet dry lips. "Seiji," Takashi whispers hoarsely, "the yōkai wanted you as a pet and even Nyanko-sensei was intimidated by him. He's too powerful even for you and your whole clan. Honestly, your clan was lucky enough to even avoid him. Those yōkai after your eye? They were servants."
Seiji heaves a heavy sigh. "Takashi," he says gently, "what will the yōkai do when he learns you haven't fulfilled your promise? Would you, of all people, break your promise to a yōkai?"
"I…It would be worth it," Takashi admits. His head dips down, hiding his expression from Seiji. It's a terrible choice to make. It doesn't feel right lying to a yōkai and making false promises. But he can't let Seiji be captured by this yōkai, for all that it would be justified. Even if the Seiji of today was the Seiji of five hundred years ago, his crimes shouldn't carry over to his…reincarnation. (How odd it is to think that souls could be reincarnated. A hint into the afterlife when the closest he had ever gotten to it were an acknowledgement of the soul and the fading away of a soul at peace.)
"Come here, Takashi," Seiji commands. As if he has all the power tied up in bed. As if Takashi hadn't managed to previously subdue him.
Guiltily, Takashi steps forward. Madara scuttles away from the room with the premonition of things to come hanging heavy in the air.
"Closer," Seiji whispers. His head lifts up and Takashi's head dips down. It is instinct. Their lips touch, bittersweet. Soft movement ignites a low heat in their blood.
So foolish, Seiji sighs inwardly.
I can't lose him, Takashi thinks desperately.
A gentle nip at Takashi's mouth heralds the end of their kiss. (The kiss heralds the dissolution of Takashi's resolve.)
"Why won't you let me help you?" Takashi asks plaintively. His mouth slants downward and eyes flutter shut. Pain resides on the planes of his face.
"Did you ever think that as much as you wanted to protect me that I wanted to protect you?" Seiji asks. He smiles, slow and sweet.
"I'm still not untying you," Takashi laughs wetly. He furtively swipes at a few tears slipping down the slope of his face.
"Sometimes I forget I'm not alone," Seiji confesses. His face turns away from Takashi. A sweep of black hair shields him. "And I start to think I do not ever want to be alone again. You must share the same thoughts."
"Then let me help," Takashi begs. "We're partners."
"Together, then," Seiji says.
Their lips meet.
Madara sticks his head into the room. He yowls. "Disgusting!" he proclaims. "You idiots! Now you'll work together?! We could've solved this before!"
"Nobody likes an eavesdropper," Seiji purrs with lips shining wetly. He casts a sly glance at Madara. It only inspires Madara's hackles to raise.
"Melodramatic idiots!" Madara hisses.
The fact is, the people I want to protect are protecting me. And so I keep finding more things that are different, and I keep on going. Even if they're small, I take one step at a time.